Updated Jon Snow

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***

For days now, the echo of a monstrous rumble had echoed from the north to Winterfell, and flashes of fire flickered on the horizon, illuminating the ancient castle walls. For days now, everyone in the castle had been looking anxiously into the distance, not knowing what they hoped to see. For days now, everyone knew that the Wall had fallen, and only a nightmarish curtain of fire and stone kept the army of the dead from marching south, sweeping away everything in its path.

And for the sixth day Sansa knew, as did most of the North, that Jon Stark, King of the North, was gone.

It was Bran, who had been watching the battle closely all this time, who brought her the black news. He was the first to tell Sansa of Lord Glover's death, as well as the appearance on the Wall of Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr and Sandor Clegane, and the news of the Hound shocked the girl. And it was he who told her that Jon had ordered the army to retreat, and that he himself had stayed on the Wall, from which he never got out, and only the ceaseless rain of fire spoke of the sacrifice the King of the North had made for his people.

Standing on the castle wall, Sansa looked towards where the army, which had regrouped near the Last Hearth and was hastily retreating south, would soon begin to approach. The clan castle of Amber was decided to be abandoned, and men, livestock, weapons and supplies were hurriedly removed from the fortress. The clans of the Northern Mountains were also hastily retreating south to Stone Hill and the Peak, taking everything of little value with them. The inhabitants of Carhold were forced to pack up their belongings and march quickly to the Dreadfort, where they planned to take up defences.

The situation was catastrophic for the North, and to decide what further action should be taken, the lords travelled to Winterfell, for there was much to discuss.

Many of the troops had fallen on the Wall, and now young men of both sexes were taking the place of those who had fallen, because survival was at stake, and so everyone who could even remotely hold a weapon was needed. The Night's Watch, which had already suffered terrible losses in the Old Bear's foray beyond the Wall and the subsequent wildling assault led by Mance, was practically exsanguinated, with only forty Black Brothers left, and they were deathly exhausted, more like ghosts than living men.

As the days wore on, more and more people gathered at Winterfell, but their eyes turned northward to the Wall. No one knew how many creatures Jon Stark had taken with him, or how long the surviving wychs and their masters would stay in one place, unless they had already gone to the Gap. Yes, the White Wolf had bought them some time, but how soon would it run out? How long before the dead pour over the Wall, sweeping away everything in their path?

The first lords had already arrived at the castle, Harald Karstark and Jon Amber among them. Sansa was pained at the mere thought that her cousin, practically a brother, had not returned, while the traitor Amber was alive and well, except for a slight limp. Yes, Little Jon had actually received a pardon for his actions on the Wall, but that didn't make Sansa feel any better. Why should she lose the people closest to her again? Haven't there been enough deaths in her family? Why are the gods so cruel to the Starks that they are taking away the second King of the North? Why have the Northmen so angered their gods that they refuse to answer their prayers and only send more and more misfortune upon the unfortunate?

- Lady Sansa,' Maester Walken approached almost silently, and had it not been for the Ghost turning behind her back, she would not have noticed. - I'm sorry to disturb you, but a certain Samwell Tarly has arrived from the south. He says he is a brother of the Night's Watch and a friend of the King.

- Tarly? - Sansa repeated in a lifeless voice.

- 'I believe he is Deacon Tarly's older brother,' the Maester explained.

- 'Ah, yes,' Stark nodded. - 'I remember. Sam Deathwing. That's what the Black Brothers called him.

- Exactly,' Walken nodded.

- I'll take him in,' Sansa said in the same steady voice. - Have him escorted to the Great Hall and fed. I'll be there shortly.

- I will relay your instructions,' the Maester left, and Sansa only sighed and stroked the Ghost's head. The direwolf was as silent as ever, but it was the silence that the girl needed, for soon she would only dream of peace.

After standing on the wall for a while, Sansa went downstairs and went straight to the Great Hall, where a fat man with a good-natured face and a dark-haired girl of about seventeen with a child in her arms were waiting for her. The fat man was dressed in black, and the hilt of a two-handed sword peeked out from behind his shoulder.

Wasn't that the sword that Deacon Tarly had been so outraged about? The thought passed quickly through Sansa's mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She had enough of her own worries to think about other families' family swords.

- Lady Sansa,' the Black Brother bowed awkwardly. - Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Samwell Tarly, and I am a brother of the Night's Watch. I'm returning from Staromest, where I was sent by order of the Lord Commander. This is Lily,' he pointed to the girl and the child, 'and the boy's name is Sam.

- I named him after Samwell,' Lily said, 'because he saved us from a fate worse than death.

- I've heard a lot about you, Samwell,' Sansa said. - Sit down, you're tired from the journey, aren't you?

- I am,' Tarly said, sitting down on the bench. - And please, call me Sam.

- All right, Sam,' Stark nodded. - John has told me many good things about you and called you his best friend. I can only be glad that you were there for him during his time with the Night's Watch.

Tarly smiled sadly, feeling his heart breaking with longing for his departed friend. The news of the King of the North's death had reached him when he and Lily were on this side of Cailin's Moat.

- I owe a lot to John,' Sam said wistfully. - If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have lasted a week at Castle Black. He helped me when I was all alone, asking nothing in return. I'm proud to have him as a friend.

- Your brother, Deacon, had to suffer John's wrath when he started insulting you.

For a moment Sam could not believe his ears, and then his insides twisted into a tight knot as the meaning of Lady Winterfell's words came to him. Deacon, his younger brother, was here? Or worse, was he still here! Apparently the horror at the thought of seeing his brother was so clearly reflected on Sam's face that Sansa hurried to reassure him:

- Your brother accompanied Margaery Tyrell and they left the North long ago, and it is unlikely that your brother will ever return here again. Jon made it clear that he was not welcome here.

Lily squeezed Sam's chubby hand, and he smiled faintly. Despite everything he'd been through, the thought of seeing his family still terrified him. He probably wasn't even as afraid of the Night King as he was of Randyll Tarly or Deacon, who was trying to imitate his father in every way. Roughly imagining how furious the Lord of Horn Hill had been when he'd discovered the Heartbreaker that had belonged to their family for centuries and was now hanging around behind Sam's back made him sick to his stomach. And there was no doubt that Deacon shared his father's beliefs about his older brother. What his mother and sisters were thinking, Tarly could not guess.

Sansa, meanwhile, was looking at the fat man and his girlfriend with a wistful smile, remembering everything Jon had told her about them. It was amazing how this indecisive man had a remarkable strength of character and a willingness to go all the way. In Jon's opinion, a coward couldn't kill a White Walker, which meant that Randyll Tarly was deeply mistaken about his son.

Sansa's thoughts were interrupted again by Maester Walcan, who this time looked worried about something. He was clutching a scroll with a broken seal in his hand, and anxiety settled in his eyes.

- Your Grace,' the Maester addressed her, 'an urgent message from White Harbour.

- What is it? - Sansa frowned.

- A Targaryen-flagged ship entered the harbour two days ago,' Walcann said. Sansa was stunned, and Sam even got up from his bench and came closer. - A messenger from Queen Daenerys is on her way to Winterfell and wishes to meet you.

- And who is this messenger?

- Tyrion Lannister.

***

The imp in the skid carriage had not been happy in the North the last time, and now it was worse. Winter was still barely perceptible in the south, but here it reigned supreme, its icy winds blowing the carriage through and under his clothes, and the ubiquitous snow, which refused to melt even in the carriage, trying to get into his neck. Tyrion merely adjusted his heavy fur hat as the snow fell from it, some of it unknowingly getting under his clothes.

But now the North looked gloomy, not only because of the weather, but because of the thick veil of fear and hopelessness that covered the land. Initially sceptical of rumours of an army of the dead, Lannister soon realised that the locals were not joking or lying about the threat from beyond the Wall. On the contrary, they packed their belongings and hurried to get as far and as fast as they could, but most of the Northerners were joining the army to give the dead one last fight.

Looking at what was happening, even the most hard-headed fool would have believed the stories of the White Walkers and their army of wychs, and since the Imp did not consider himself a fool, he believed the stories even faster.

- Oh, gods, it's freezing,' Gendry complained, sitting across from him, wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak. - Will it ever stop snowing, Lord Tyrion?

- Winter has only just begun,' the Imp said, 'so get used to it. It's only going to get worse.

- How much worse? - Robert's bastard was indignant, pulling his scarf up to his eyes.

- Believe me, it can get a lot worse,' Tyrion grinned. - Don't worry, you'll warm up in Winterfell. We'll pour you some hot wine and put you in an equally hot bath. If you're lucky, you'll be in it with a pretty girl.

- To be honest, I don't know why you brought me along at all,' Gendry admitted, blushing at the dwarf's words. His crowned father's notorious promiscuity, notorious throughout Westeros, was not something the young man himself had been exposed to.

- You have much to learn if you plan to become Lord of Storm's End and ruler of the Stormlands,' Tyrion replied. - Queen Daenerys did not give you your rightful status to remain an illiterate ignoramus. So you will learn, including how to negotiate with very stubborn people.

- Learning,' Gendry muttered. - I'm still surprised I'm breathing at all. When the queen found out who my father was, I thought she'd have me burned or something worse, but instead I was named Baratheon.

- Queen Daenerys needs loyal men, including among the lords of the great houses of Westeros,' the Imp explained. - There are no more Baratheons, and you are Robert Baratheon's last bastard son. Well, the last known illegitimate son, to be exact. Bottom line, you get your rightful status and the Queen gets a new ally, but you're still no good. You're no good as a lord, so you're coming with me to negotiate with my ex-wife.

- But Queen Daenerys wanted us to meet with Jon Stark,' Gendry argued.

- Yeah, except he was still alive when we left Dragonstone,' the gloomy Lannister countered. He liked Jon, and the news of the bastard's death saddened him.

The news of the King of the North's death reached their ears as they entered the port of White Harbour, and it must be said that the Northmen were indeed saddened by the White Wolf's death. There were the most bizarre and even frightening rumours about him, the most ridiculous fables Tyrion had ever heard. But the first doubts that there might be a grain of truth in those tales came to Lannister when they heard a distant rumble and saw strange flashes in the north. Both were completely disliked by the Dothraki who accompanied the Imp and Gendry on their way to Winterfell.

Tyrion found it interesting to watch the nomads, who were in a place like this for the first time in their lives and now had no idea how to escape the icy wind and the omnipresent snow. Their horses were buried knee-deep in the snow, and they bellowed in indignation at the conditions. Imp himself had to admit that the Dothraki horde would be of no use in the North - if threatened, the locals would simply lock themselves in their huge castles, and the nomads would die of cold and hunger under their walls, for winter would kill them more effectively than any arrows.

They had to ride for several more days when the towers of Winterfell finally appeared on the horizon, and the approaches to Winterfell were in turmoil. Northerners scurried back and forth, sledges loaded with goods, hammers rattling. People were busy, and so even the sight of Dothraki, unfamiliar to the locals, did not cause them to be distracted from their work as if their lives depended on it. All this told Tyrion that things were going very, very badly for the Northmen.

Around the castle itself was a huge camp, where the banners of the Lords of the North were flying above the tents and marquees. Here were the Ambers and the Karstarks, the Flints and the Servins, the Manderleys and the Glovers, and many more. Soldiers sat around the fires preparing dinner, looking longingly at the castle walls, where hot water flowed through the pipes, providing the castle with much-needed warmth.

The Stark vassals had come to Winterfell to discuss the future, Tyrion realised. It remained to be seen whether there would be room in Winterfell's Great Hall for the guests from the south, and whether the lords of the North would accept the Imp's offer. The only problem was that the original plan had been to negotiate with Jon, but in light of recent events....

A troop of Stark-flagged cavalry rode out to meet the new guests, but no sooner had they met than the rumbling that many had grown accustomed to suddenly died down, and the firelight in the north was suddenly extinguished. With terror in their eyes, people looked to where the Wall was, if, indeed, it still stood.

The barrier that John had put in the way of the White Walkers at the cost of his life was gone. The road south was open.